


The Largest Egg (Wings of Fire: Soulmates & Changes: Book 1)

by Azulet



Series: Wings of Fire: Soulmates & Changes [2]
Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: AU, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Canon Era, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Cuddling & Snuggling, Death, Dragons, Eggs, Escape, Families of Choice, Family, Family Bonding, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Family Issues, Fights, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Minor Character Death, Not Canon Compliant, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV First Person, Planning Adventures, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Prophecy, Running Away, Series, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Unconventional Families, alternate POV
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2018-12-19 12:09:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11897442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azulet/pseuds/Azulet
Summary: What if there was another egg in the prophecy? What if dragons are born with soulmarks?Sunny can tell something big is about to happen. The six dragonets of destiny are ready to take on the world, even if the world isn't ready for them. This is the beginning of their story.(This is the Soulmark AU with more characters, different perspectives, and other jazz (I make not promises about any actual jazz). It's probably going to be crazy and definitely going to be different. Enjoy!)





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This was previously titled "The Color Of Dragon Blood" and the main character was going to be Glory, but I changed my plan! 
> 
> Disclaimer:  
> I make no profit from this work! I'm writing this for my own enjoyment and for other Wings Of Fire fans. Obviously I don't own the series, because if I did this wouldn't be fanfiction, it would be canon.

_Six Years Ago…_

White scales flashed through roiling clouds

Hvitur clutched his fragile cargo closer. Just over the mountains, and he’d be safe. He’d escaped the SkyWing palace unseen. And the secret cave was so close….

But he wasn’t alone.

Two dragons dove through the clouds, and Hvitur screamed.

“Bind his mouth,” ordered a deep voice. The IceWing was dropped roughly onto a rain-beaten ledge, and he inhaled, preparing to release his frostbreath on the dragons that held him, but before he could, the voice said “Bind his mouth. Quickly!”

One of the dragons that had grabbed him grabbed something out of Hvitur’s sight, and –

_burning_

_burningburningBURNING_

Hvitur could feel the white-hot chains wrapped around his snout, and he thought he was going to pass out from the pain. It felt like the chains were burning right through his scales.

“Too late.”  He could he the unsympathetic smirk in the words. “You won’t be using your freezing-death breath on us, ice dragon.”

 _I hope it’s not too late_ , thought Hvitur, _I hope Kestrel finds the egg at the drop point._

“He was carrying this, Queen Burn,” said a different voice.

_Queen Burn. I thought it might be._

“This is not the IceWing egg,” hissed the SandWing princess.

_No. And you’ll never get it. I hope._

“You stole this from the SkyWing palace.”

Hvitur stared defiantly up at her. _The largest egg on mountain high will give you wings of the sky_.

“You thought you got away unnoticed, didn’t you?” Burn continued, “My SkyWing ally is not a fool. Queen Scarlet knows everything that happens in her kingdom. Her lookouts reported an IceWing thief sneaking away, and I decided finding you might add some,” she paused, narrowing her black eyes at him, “ _violence_ to my boring visit.”

Burn held the large egg in front of the fire, turning it slowly, displaying the red and gold swirling beneath the surface.

“This is a SkyWing egg about to hatch. Why would my sister send you to steal a SkyWing dragonet? Blaze hates any dragon younger and prettier than she is.”

_She doesn’t know – maybe she’ll let the egg go._

“Unless …”

 _No, no, please._ Hvitur didn’t care about himself anymore, he just needed to know that the egg would survive. That the prophecy would come true.

“The brightest night is tomorrow….”

Her tail flicked towards Hvitur, allowing the poisonous barb to hover a breath away from his face.

“You’re not in Blaze’s army, are you? You’re one of those insipid underground peacemongers.”

“The Talons of Peace?” asked one of the thugs that had grabbed Hvitur, and at the same time the other one said “You mean they’re real?”

Burn snorted derisively. “A few worms crying over a little blood. Unwrap his chains. He won’t be able to freeze us until his scales cool down.”

The enormous dragon leaned over Hvitur as the chains were pulled painfully from his snout. “Tell me, ice dragon, do you really believe in that pompous old NightWing’s prophecy?”

“Haven’t _enough_ dragons died for your war?” growled Hvitur, trying not to wince at the pain. “All of Pyrrhia has suffered for the last _twelve years_. The prophecy says –”

“ _I don’t care_ ,” hissed the SandWing, leaning so close that their noses were almost touching, “I’m not letting a bunch of words or baby dragons choose when I die or what I bow to. We can have _peace_ when my sisters are dead and I am queen of the SandWings.”

“The dragonets are coming, whether you like it or not,” Hvitur said, refusing to be scared, “and _they’ll_ choose who the next SandWing queen should be.”

“Really?” Burned moved away from him, picking up the egg and twirling it in her talons. “Is this egg a part of your pathetic prophecy?”

Hvitur felt like there was a weight pinning him to the ground. He couldn’t move.

“Hello?” Burn said mockingly, tapping one talon against the egg, “Is there a dragonet of destiny in there? Ready to come out and end this big bad war?”

“Leave her alone.”

Burn smiled maliciously. “Tell me, what becomes of your precious prophecy if one of the six dragonets is never hatched at all?”

“You wouldn’t,” Hvitur said, thinking, _Three moons, I hope she’s bluffing_. “No one would harm a dragon egg.”

“No ‘wings of sky’ to help save the world….what a sad, sad story.” Burn threw the egg, catching it in her other claw. Back and forth, back and forth. “I guess that means you should be very, very careful with this terribly _important_ little –”

Burn threw the SkyWing egg a little too far, barely attempting to catch it. The egg, the dragonet, the prophecy, sailed over the edge off the cliff to smash somewhere far below.

“Oops,” she said, pretending to pout.

“No!” The scream seemed to ripe itself free of Hvitur of its own accord. He surged upwards, freeing himself of the thugs, and leaped towards where the egg had disappeared, but Brun stopped him.

“So much for destiny,” she said, “So much for your tragic little movement.”

“You’re a monster. We’ll never give up. The dragonets – the dragonets will come and stop this war.”

“Even if they do,” Burn hissed, looming over Hvitur, “It’ll be far too late for you.”

 

Webs felt like snakes were writhing in his stomach.

_It’s been at least three hours since Kestrel left. She should be back by now._

Almost as though she had heard his thought and was responding, Webs saw a plume of flame split the darkness.

“I stand with The Talons of Peace,” he whispered, “Kestrel? Is that you?”

“We await the wings of fire,” replied a voice.

Webs stepped into the main tunnel, and was nearly decapitated by _something_ hurtling at his head. He instinctively caught it, then nearly dropped it out of shock.

“The IceWing egg? Did you just _throw_ this at me?” he asked incredulously.

Kestrel shrugged. “It doesn’t matter now. I found it at the drop point, but Hvitur and the SkyWing egg are dead,” she said, “I knew I should have stolen the SkyWing egg myself. He might be the Ice Kingdom expert, but _I_ know the Sky Kingdom. They wouldn’t have caught me a second time.”

Webs shifted nervously, still clutching the IceWing egg to his chest.  “Asha is dead too,” he muttered.

“Asha?” Kestrel almost yelled, and another plume of flame light up the underground passage. “How?”

“Caught in a battle between Blaze’s and Blister’s forces on the way here. She still made it with the red MudWing egg, but she died of her wounds soon after.”

“So it’s just you, me, and Dune to raise the little worms,” Kestrel growled, scratching at the stone floor with one talon, “For a prophecy that can never be fulfilled. Let’s break the cursed eggs now and be done with it. We’ll be long gone before The Talons of Peace return for the dragonets.”

“No!” Webs cried, pressing the egg even tighter against his scales, “Keeping the dragonets alive for the next eight years is more important than anything. If you don’t want to be part of that –“

Webs could barely see Kestrel in the underground gloom, but he imagined her rolling her eyes.

“All right, enough,” she grumbled, “I’m the strongest dragon in the Talons of Peace. You need me.  
It doesn’t matter how I feel about nasty little dragons.” She glared pointedly at the egg Webs was still holding.

“I’ll find us a sixth dragonet,” Webs promised, gently handing her the egg. She held it like it was made of Dragonbite vipers, and stared at it for a moment before what Webs had said sunk in.

“There’s no way back into the Sky Kingdom, brainless,” she said, “They’ll be guarding the hatchery closely now.”

 _Duh._ Webs felt like smacking himself, but he had to focus. “Then I’ll get the egg somewhere else,” he said, thinking as he spoke, “The RainWings don’t even count their eggs – I could take one from the rain forest without anyone noticing.”

Kestrel looked repulsed by the mere thought. “Of all the horrible ideas. RainWings are wretched creatures. Nothing like SkyWings.”

“We have to do something,” Webs said, shrugging, “In eight years, The Talons of Peace will come looking for six dragonets. The prophecy says six, and we’re going to make it come true. Whatever it takes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that the prologue is fairly similar to the canonical prologue for WoF: The Dragonet Prophecy. Trust me, things will get very different in the next chapter. The changes I'v made to this version of Pyrrhia don't take effect and/or aren't noticeable until Chapter 1.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A history play turns into a discussion of escape.

_Now._

 

“AHA!” I yell, pouncing on my prey. At first I think it was the lizard I just killed that yelped, but then I realize Clay is in front of me. He has his wings over his head, crouching down.

“I’m sorry!” he gasps, “Whatever it is! It was an accident! If it’s the extra cow –”

I gently poke his side with my snout. “Calm down, silly,” I say, trying not to laugh, “I wasn’t aha-ing at you.”

“Oh,” Clay says, sounding relieved, letting his wings relax back to his sides. He turns around to look at me, then notices the lizard I’m in the process of eating.

“Lizards again?” he asks, and I nod, saying “Yup. That was my fierce hunting cry.”

Then I notice his expression, the little crease in his forehead. “Are you alright?” I ask, tilting my head at him, “You look all serious.”

“Just thinking.” He shrugs.

“Dune says we should study before bed,” I say, “The others are already in the study cave. Come on.” I flick him with my tail and lead the way.

When we get to the study cave, Tsunami is pacing back and forth, giving instructions for a game of “How the War Began.” Clay and I sit down in the entrance, and Frost notices us and winks.

“Why don’t the three sisters just sit down and talk out an end to the war?” I say quietly to Clay.

“Stop it,” Tsunami orders, “No whispering! Pay attention! I’m assigning parts.”

Starflight sighs dramatically, and says “This is not studying. This is playing.” He’s stacking some loose scrolls. He likes to organize whenever he’s nervous or frustrated. “Perhaps I should read you one of these,” he says, gesturing to the scrolls.

“Dear moons, anything but that,” Glory complains, looking down from the rock ledge she’s perched on, “Maybe later, when we’re actually trying to fall asleep.”

Frost muffles a snort, shooting an amused look up at her.

“Stop arguing,” Tsunami says bossily, which is a bit hypocritical coming from her. Most of the arguments between us involve Tsunami.

“Now,” she continues, “Obviously I’d be the best queen, but since Sunny’s the SandWing, let’s make her Queen Oasis.”

I obligingly moves to the center of the cave. I know I probably don’t look much like the former SandWing queen, with my golden-yellow scales, mossy green eyes, and harmless tail, but I appreciate that Tsunami thinks I should play Queen Oasis.

“Frost, you can be the scavenger,” Tsunami says, but Starflight interrupts, saying “That’s hardly fair. Frost is bigger than Sunny, whereas a real scavenger would be smaller than her, and according to that scroll –”

Frost gets up from where she had been laying down next to the cave entrance, walks over to Starflight’s orderly stack of scrolls, and nudges it gently with one of her talons so the whole things collapses. “Pardon me,” she says, smiling at Starflight, and steps into the center of the room standing next to me.

Frost looks the complete opposite of me; she’s silver, and cold to the touch, her IceWing spikes rattling gently every time she moves, while I’m gold, radiating warmth (one of my few normal SandWing traits; I emit heat like the rest of my tribe), looking soft and harmless without the SandWing tail barb. We must seem like the moon and the sun, standing next to each other.

Frost grins at me, and says in a fake-threatening voice “You better watch out, sand dragon.”

I laugh, nudging against Frost’s pale scales.

“Alright, settle down,” Tsunami says in her _“I’m the boss and you better listen to me”_ voice, “Glory, you can be Blister, Starflight can be Blaze, and Clay’s Burn.”

I can see Glory roll her eyes as she hops down from her ledge.

Starflight seems to share her opinion, and observes “I had to be a princess last time too. This game seems rather repetitive.” He stretches his wings, displaying the silver scales scattered on the underside of his dark wings.

“It’s not a _game_ , it’s _history_ ,” Tsunami says irritably, her glowspots flashing against the dark sapphire blue of her scales. “And besides,” she says, straightening, “ _someone_ has to organize you, and I’m clearly the best director. So you have to be Blaze.”

I can tell Starflight’s not happy, but he doesn’t complain any more.

Tsunami smirks, pleased that she won the argument, and hops up to Glory’s ledge, saying “All right, go ahead.”

“Uhh,” I say, trying to get into character. _I’m queen of the SandWings. I’m the most powerful dragon in all of Pyrrhia._

It’s hard, since I don’t generally spend time thinking about what a powerful queen I am, since I’m not a queen, or particularly powerful. The others never talk about it in front of me, but I’m well away of my oddness. The minders have no such reservations, taking every opportunity to remind me. Webs was generally the nicest, but even he had made comments, especially when Dune and I were in the same room. Being near a “real” SandWing only highlighted the differences. Dune mostly just made snide remarks about the color of my scales or my useless tail, but Kestrel tells me outright that I’m a deformity. I don’t like it, but I feel worse for Glory. It’s always “You’re a freak, but the Rainwing isn’t even part of the prophecy.” That’s how they refer to her; the lazy RainWing, even though Glory isn’t remotely lazy.

 _Focus!_ I tell myself, _Queen of the SandWings!_

Frost has moved back towards the edge of the cave, giving me room to move.

“Uhh, right. I’m Queen Oasis of the SandWings,” I start, doing my best to strut like a real queen would,  “I’m so very important and royal, and…”

Tsunami sighs disappointedly, and I can see Glory trying to hide her smirk.

I fell my determination harden in the pit of my stomach. There is one thing I hate: when my soulmates think I’m useless. It’s just a game, but if they can’t take me seriously in this, they definitely won’t take me seriously for important things.

I know they love me, but I also know what they think of me: _Sweet little Sunny, so kind and innocent. She’s too small to ever be a threat. She’s so oblivious, she doesn’t realize that we talk behind her back. Her pacifist ideas are nice, but totally unrealistic. She doesn’t have any real talents; she wouldn’t be able to save the world._

They wouldn’t ever say such things to my face, but I hear it every time they look at each other and sigh when I suggest a non-violent solution, every time they ask me to “go tidy the study cave” so they can talk in private.

“I’ve been queen for ages,” I say, forcing confidence into my voice, “No one would dare to challenge me for the throne! I am the strongest SandWing queen who ever lived.” I glance around, then grab a couple of nearby pebbles. “My treasuries are larger than any other tribe. If I wanted, I could –”

Frost suddenly lunges forward, swinging her tail so the points rattle. “Treasure?” she says, “Did you say treasure?”

“Rargh!” I bellow, stomping forward, “What is this puny scavenger doing in my kingdom? I do not fear you!”

Glory is laughing so hard she has to lay down and cover her face with her wings, and even Tsunami is making faces.

I don’t mind them laughing; I know we look silly, but I’m doing a good job, and that’s what matters.

“Squeak!” Frost yells, batting one talon at me, “What noises do scavengers even make? Squeak! Other annoying sounds! I want your treasure!”

“Well you’re not going to get it!” I say, flaring my wings and arcing my tail. It’s not particularly threatening without the poisonous barb, but nobody points this out.

Frost darts forward, jabbing at me, but I block her, and we start circling. Even though I’m the smallest, I enjoy sparring with the others. They fight fair (mostly) and don’t spend the whole time pointing out my failures (like Kestrel). My size may be considered a disadvantage by most, but it allows me to get under their defenses and slip out when they have me pinned.

But in the end Queen Oasis has to lose. I let Frost back me into the wall, and she shoves her tail between my neck and wing, the spikes clattering loudly against the rock wall.

“Aaaaaaargh!” I howl, crumpling to the floor. “Impossible! Killed by a scavenger! What will happen to the throne? Noooo……” I let the last world peter out, closing my eyes and letting my wings flop lifelessly.

Frost does an evil laugh, and I can hear her scooping up the stones I had used for my “treasure”.

“Your turn,” I hear Tsunami’s voice say, and a moment later, I can feel Clay, Glory, and Starflight crowding around me.

“Oh no,” Clay says, “The queen – I mean, our mother is dead! Who will be the next queen?”

“I was about to challenge her,” replies Glory’s voice, “I should be queen!”

“No, I should be queen!” Clay insists, “I’m the oldest and biggest!”

There’s a pause, and I can hear feet shuffling around. Finally Tsunami says “Come on, Starflight, don’t be a lazy – dragon.”

She was about to say “Don’t be a lazy RainWing”, but she caught herself. None of us think Glory is lazy, but constantly hearing things like “If you don’t study, you’re no better than a RainWing,” and “Did someone replace your brains with a Rainwings?” from the minders makes it difficult not to make comments like that.

More footsteps, then Starflight sighs and says “Oh dear… I suppose I should be queen. As the youngest princess, I would have the longest reign. Also…” Another sigh. It’s hard for me not to laugh; poor Starflight always gets the worst roles in these history plays. “Also,” he continues, and I can picture him rolling his eyes even though my own are closed, “I am by far the prettiest.”

I can’t help it anymore; I let out a little laugh and then try to muffle it. Someone (Glory, I think) pokes me with their tail.

“I’m the strongest, I’ll kill you both right now,” Clay says, not sounding remotely threatening.

“You and what army?” Glory says, and then pauses. “Actually,” she continues, “I’ll go get an army.”

“Well, _I’ll_ go get an army too,” Clay replies, and they both pause.

“Uh, yeah,” Starflight mumbles, “I’ll go ally myself with the IceWings. Also, by the way, most of the SandWings want me as their queen.”

“They do?” I ask, opening my eyes.

Tsunami, standing a little ways off, shoots me a glare and stage-whispers “You’re dead! Stop talking!”

“Blaze is very popular with her tribe,” Starflight explains, “There are several recent scrolls about it.”

“So why can’t she be queen?” I say, ignoring Tsunami, “If the SandWings like her, she should be queen.”

“Because Burn is stronger and scarier and could crush her like a bug is they fought talon to talon,” Glory says, joining the conversation, “And Blister – that’s me – is smarter than both of them put together; she knew she couldn’t kill Burn in a normal duel. It was her idea to get the other tribes involved and turn their battle for the throne into a world war.”

“She’s probably waiting for the other two to kill each other,” Starflight muses, and Glory nods in agreement.

Clay, who has been standing next to them quietly, asks “But who do we want to be queen?”

Frost joins us, sitting down between Glory and I. Tsunami, clearly realizing her history play had been abandoned, comes over, glaring at everyone.

“They all sound pretty awful from what I’ve read,” Frost says, frowning.

“They are,” Starflight concurs gloomily, “Blaze is about as smart as a concussed sheep, Blister is probably plotting to become queen off all the tribes, and if Burn wins, she’ll keep the war going just for fun.”

 _Great options_ , I think. _It’s great that The Talons of Peace are trying to stop the war, but none of the SandWing sisters seem like they’d be a good queen._

Suddenly, Kestrel appeared in the entrance to the study cave. We had been so busy discussing the SandWing princesses that none of us had heard her.

“WHAT is going on here?” She snarled, striding into the cavern. I rush to get up, nearly slipping, but Starflight appears at my shoulder and helps me up.

“This doesn’t look like studying; this looks like _gossiping_ ,” she hisses, looking down at us. Even Clay, the largest of us, looks small in front of her.

“We _were_ studying,” Tsunami snaps back, “We were acting out Queen Oasis’s death, which _started_ the whole war, and then Starflight was telling us what he had read about the SandWing princesses.”

Starflight doesn’t look pleased to have been mentioned; he’s still standing next to me, but he’s immobile. When he gets scared, especially when one of the teachers yell at us, he freezes completely still, as though not moving will make him invisible.

“So you were play-acting and gossiping,” Kestrel says, as though Tsunami has just proved her point, “You’re too old for games.”

“Were we ever _young_ enough?” Glory mutters mutinously, but luckily Kestrel doesn’t hear her; she’s still focused on Tsunami.

“It _wasn’t_ a _game_ ,” Tsunami nearly yells, “It’s a different way of learning history! But I guess you’re too close-minded to see that; everything has to be your way.”

“And now you’re talking back,” Kestrel says smugly, “That means no sleeping in the river tonight.”

Tsunami sleeps in the river as much as she can, and the punishment if she misbehaves is having to spend the night in one of our sleeping caves.

She growls low in her throat, but Kestrel just ignores her, pointing to the collapsed pile of scrolls and saying “The rest of you can learn from her mistakes and study like you’re supposed to.”

“Hey!” Frost says as Kestrel is turning to leave, “That’s not fair!”

Starflight tries desperately to hush her, but Clay says, “Yeah, we were all doing the same thing.”

I nod my head fervently; Tsunami may have organized it, but we were the ones actually acting out the history play.

Kestrel glares down at us. “I know who the ringleader is,” she says, “Stop the leader, and the problem goes away. Now go to bed.”

Kestrel leaves, and we stand in silence for a moment.

“Sorry,” Clay says, giving Tsunami a friendly nudge, “We tried.”

“I know,” Tsunami sighs, spreading her wing overtop of his, “She’s just insufferable.”

She sits down, staring morosely at the floor. Clay lays down, rolling onto his back and letting his wings flop out on either side of him. Almost instantly, Tsunami, Frost, and I curl up next to him on the hard stone floor. It seems like Clay always knows what to do to make us feel better.

“So, I guess this means we’re not studying like Kestrel told us to?” Starflight asks tentatively, which earns him a tail-poke from Glory, making him jump a little.

Glory doesn’t particularly enjoy physical contact, but she usually makes an exception when there’s a dragonet pile, so she joins us, squeezing between me and Clay. Her scales change from emerald green to iridescent copper, and I think for the thousandth time that if it weren’t for Glory, we wouldn’t know just how many colors there can be.

Starflight coils up next to me too, apparently deciding it’s not worth the fight.

“I don’t think I can stand this much longer,” Tsunami whispers from her position near Clay’s wing and Frost’s head.

“I –” she begins, then pauses and says “Sunny, would mind taking those scrolls back to our sleeping cave?”

 _So we can talk without your innocent little ears around_ , I finish her sentence in my head. “Do I really have to?” I say as sweetly as I can, “I’m so comfy here, I really don’t want to move.”

“Yeah,” Frost says, “We don’t have to put them away right _now_.”

Glory hums softly, which I choose to interpret as a sign of agreement. I hear a huff from Tsunami’s direction, but she doesn’t complain further.

“Fine, you can stay,” she says, because she’s Tsunami and she likes to act as though everything is her decision, “But you _can not_ tell the minders about this.”

“Okay,” I says quickly, incredibly glad that they’re actually going to let me in on one of their private conversations, “I promise I won’t.”

Ever since we were three, when I accidently told Dune about a pile of rocks we were building so we could look out the hole in the ceiling of the Study Cave, they stopped telling me anything they don’t what the minders to know about, as though I’ll run and tell Dune or Kestrel or Webs anything they say. I understand why they don’t want to tell me things, but that was two years ago, and they still treat me like I’m three. I was very young, we all were; I didn’t realize that Dune would take away our rock pile, but because of one mistake, they don’t trust me with anything remotely secret. It’s _infuriating_.

Tsunami still isn’t happy, I can tell, but I feel Clay nudge her and she continues.

“We have to get out of here, and soon. Do any of you have an idea for how we can escape?”

Oh. So that’s what this is about. They want to escape. I don’t ask any of the questions flying through my head; I don’t want them the change their minds about trusting me, but I do wonder when they planned on telling me.

Have they thought through what would happen if we ran away? Do they have a plan? Where will we go, how will we survive?

As though he had read my thoughts, Starflight says “I’m not sure we’re ready yet. There’s so much we haven’t learn, so much we don’t know.”

“That’s what the teachers want us to think!” Tsunami say vehemently, and Starflight hushes her.

“What about the prophecy?” Clay asks, “Shouldn’t we wait two more years?”

“I don’t see why,” Glory says, bumping against me as she shrugs, “I’m with Tsunami. Destiny is destiny, right? Whatever we do must be the right thing.”

“But we should at least have a plan,” counters Frost, “Where will we go? What do we do for food and shelter?”

“I know, I know, we need to plan,” Tsunami says grumpily, “But I feel like being stuck in here is slowly killing me.”

“As soon as we have a plan, we’ll go,” I say, worrying that the slightest misstep will cause them to stop trusting me.

Glory nods in agreement and says “Let’s see them force our destiny on us when they can’t find us anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY! First official chapter! WITH CHANGES AND MORE DRAGONETS AND OTHER FUN STUFF!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dragonets spy on their minders.

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash from the central hall. I jump a little, and all six of us start to get up. Another rumble; the entrance boulder sliding back into place, followed by heavy footsteps. From the extra flapping sound they make, it must be Webs.

“Something’s happening,” Tsunami mutters, hurrying towards the tunnel opening. The spiny ridge along her back is standing straight up.

“It doesn’t sound good,” comments Frost, “Should we listen?”

Starflight says “I’m sure they’ll tell us soon,” but Glory is already talking over him, saying “Of course.”

Then she pauses, glancing at me. Noticing her expression, Starflight looks at me too. I feel like I’m the map on the wall, that Tsunami and Starflight spend hours examining, trying to find out where our cave is. Finally, Starflight sighs.

“We’ve already told her our plans to escape,” he says, and although I don’t like that he’s talking about me as though I’m not there, I try to stay quiet and look as innocent as possible. “Telling her about this, too, won’t make much difference.”

Clay smiles hopefully at me, and I try to return it.

“Alright,” Tsunami says, and I can practically feel the impatience radiating from her, “Let’s go!”

She runs out of the cave, and we all follow. I purposefully slow down so I’m walking next to Frost.

“Hey,” I begin, keeping my voice low, “Thank you for standing up for me. I – It’s nice to be included.”

Frost ducks her head, not looking at me. “Well, I’d love to say you’re welcome, but…” she lifts her head, and I see that she’s wearing a sad smile, “I didn’t realize that they wanted to talk about our escape plans. I thought Tsunami was just being her usual bossy self.” She laughs, which is a good sign. Frost can be serious, but she’s not normally somber for too long. “If I knew she was trying to get you to leave so we could talk, I’m not sure what I would have done.” She shrugs her wings.

It hurts that the only person who stood up for me didn’t even do it on purpose, but I’m glad she was honest.

We’re in the central chamber now, and Tsunami is whispering instructions.

“Me and Clay will go up the river into the minder’s cave,” she says, “Starflight and Glory, go into the passage way – but don’t let them see you!”

Glory rolls her eyes. “Tsunami, we’ve done this a hundred times. We know what to do.”

“ _Fine_ ,” Tsunami huffs back, and she dives gracefully into the river.

“What should I do?” I ask Frost. She’s the only one who hasn’t moved; Clay is getting into the river with Tsunami, and Starflight and Glory have crossed the river a little further down, where it’s narrow enough jump over.

“I guess you’re staying with me,” Frost shrugs, “I can’t go in the river like Clay or Tsunami,” she explains, “And I’m not exactly _subtle_ in dark caves.” She flares her wings, displaying her gleaming sliver-white scales.

Even though we have to wait in the central hall, it’s not hard to make out what the minders are talking about. Kestrel voice echoes down the tunnel, bouncing and reverberating against the rough stone walls.

“Coming here? With no warning? After six years, suddenly he’s interested?”

One of the others says something, but they’re not yelling quite as loud, so I can only hear the words “Maybe”, “Ready,” and “War.”

Another voice grumbles something, and I look at Frost to see if she understood what they said. She shakes her head, and motions toward the tunnel with her tail. I follow as she hops over the river and creeps up to the entrance of the tunnel.

“We’ve munn our best,” says Webs’ voice. _We’ve done our best_. “The prophecy hoos these dragonets, mud us.” _The prophecy choose these dragonets, not us_.

“Does he even know what happened?” Kestrel’s voice, loud and clear. “Does he know about the _RainWing_ replacement? The _defective_ SandWing? How about the goofy, friendly _IceWing_? Or perhaps the _stupid_ MudWing and the _shy_ NightWing? And don’t forget about the insolent, volatile _SeaWing_.”

Each insult is like a dagger stabbed into my heart, and I’m almost more upset for the others than I am for myself. I might not like to admit it, but I am peculiar. I suppose all of her comments are true, a little bit, but it’s awful that she says them aloud. The other dragonets must be feeling miserable. Frost, standing next to me in semi-darkness, is almost expressionless, except for a slight narrowing of her eyes and tensing in her jaw. She looks over at me, and it’s easy to see the empathy in her eyes, but there’s also a cold anger in there, a determination I doubt our teacher have ever seen.

“That’s not – The message didn’t say what he knows or why he cares,” now Webs is talking, “I’m supposed to meet him and bring him here. Tomorrow.”

Who was coming? I hadn’t heard a name, but clearly it was someone important.

“I’m not worried about Sunny; we followed the prophecy’s instructions,” Dune says, replying to Kestrel’s hurtful comments, “There’s nothing more we can do. But the RainWing – he’s not going to like that.”

There’s a rumbling growl, and Kestrel says “I don’t like it either, never have.”

“She’s not that bad,” Webs says defensively, “She’s smarter than she wants us to know.”

“You just think that because you’re the one who brought her here,” Dune snaps, “She’s the same as all other RainWings; lazy and worthless.”

“And she’s not a SkyWing. A SkyWing would have been much better.” That’s Kestrel, because in her opinion, SkyWings are the best at everything.

“Well of course _you_ think that,” Webs gripes, “But what has your tribe ever actually _done_ for you?”

There’s a moment of silence.

“ _Don’t every say that again,_ ” Kestrel whispers dangerously. We probably wouldn’t have been able to hear her, but Dune and Webs are being completely quiet.

“Sorry,” mutters Webs, but Kestrel just snorts.

“Well, I never thought he would come look at them!” Webs says, clearly trying to bring the conversation to the ominous someone who’s coming to inspect us. “After he dropped off Starflight’s egg, I thought we would never see him again! The NightWings aren’t part of the war.”

So he’s a NightWing. That only narrowed it down to about half a tribe.

“Did the Talons say what he wants?” Dune asks.

“Well, it is his prophecy, so I guess he wants to see the dragonets who are supposed to be fulfilling it,” Webs says.

_Oh._

If I’m remembering correctly, the dragon who delivered the prophecy was called Morrowseer. His name is a bit on the snout, but from the history scrolls we’ve read, most NightWing names are like that.

Frost is frantically waving her wing, so obviously she remembers too. I nod at her, and she stops moving, but she looks excited.

I wonder what the others think of this. I never thought about Morrowseer as an actual dragon who we might get to meet; he always seemed like an abstract concepts, just another famous dragon to study.

But now we’re actually going to meet him. I’m terrified and elated at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much shorter than the others. Sorry!


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The prophecy dragonets meet Morrowseer.

Normally, when you meet an idol, they let you down. At least that’s what I’ve read. I’m not saying Morrowseer is my idol, but he is imposing. Exactly as imposing as I imagined.

Most of last night had been spent in a huddle with the other dragonets, whispering about what we’d heard. Technically, there are two sleeping caves, each with ledges covered in thin bedding, but we never use them. We’ve been told, time and time again, that we’re too old to sleep together, use the separate beds. I find it much harder to sleep if I’m not surrounded by the soft breathing and gentle crush of my soulmates, and they agree, so we spend most nights together. The minders make sure we’re in our assigned beds – we’ve gotten quite good at faking sleep – but once they go to their cave, we steal the blankets off our rock ledges and make a sleepy pile on the floor.

Last night, though, we didn’t sleep. We talked about Morrowseer and escape, discussing if he would help or hinder our efforts. I was scared, but hopeful.

I was right to be scared. He’s bigger than Kestrel, and has an air of ominous doom that makes him seem even bigger. We’re lined up in front of him, in the minder’s sleeping cave, trying to look like the dragons who will stop the war, and not just tiny dragonets who’ve never been in the real world. Morrowseer spreads his wings out, displaying the glittering sliver scales on the underside that all NightWings have. Somehow, they don’t look the same as Starflight’s scales. When I look at Starflight’s wings, I see a beautiful pattern of stars in the night sky. When I look at Morrowseer’s wings, I just see the wings of an incredibly large dragon.

Morrowseer already looks like he hates us, even though we haven’t done anything. Is he reading our minds right now?

_HELLO!_ I think as loud as possible, watching to see if he reacts. I don’t notice anything, but maybe he’s just really good at controlling his expressions.

Finally, he looks at Glory, standing at the end of the line.

“What is this supposed to be?” he askes, pointing to Glory like she’s a rotting animal carcass. Glory didn’t respond physically, but I see a hint of red – the color that means Glory is angry, we’ve learned – curling around the frills behind her ears. She crushes it quickly, though, replacing it with the neutral lavender the rest of her scales are displaying. She doesn’t move, just keeps stare up at Morrowseer with an emotionless expression.

“It was his idea,” Kestrel immediately says, nodding at Webs, “We lost the SkyWing, so we replaced it with this.”

It’s awful how they’re talking about Glory as though she’s not right in front of them, as though she’s an object. It makes me feel sick.

“At least we have six dragonets,” Webs defends himself, “The prophecy says six!”

Morrowseer swings his head back to look at me. “More like five and a half,” he rumbles “Is this supposed to be the SandWing? What’s wrong with it? Don’t you feed it?”

I try to puff myself up and look bigger, but with Clay standing next to me, I doubt it works. Before I can think of a response, I hear a growl from Tsunami, standing on the other side of Clay.

“There’s nothing wrong with her,” she says loudly. I appreciate that Tsunami’s standing up for me, but I wish she would let me defend myself.

“She can’t help that she’s small,” Starflight mumbles, surprising me. I thought he would be too petrified with fear to say anything, let alone contradicting Morrowseer.

“She’s a good fighter,” Clay adds, “And so is Glory.”

“Glory is really good at remembering facts, too,” I hear Frost’s voice say. She’s standing on the opposite end of the line from Glory, so I can’t see her past Clay and Tsunami. “And they do feed Sunny. We’re still dragonets; she’s probably just growing slower than the rest of us.”

“Stop talking, all of you!” Morrowseer orders, then turns to the minders. “Something has gone terribly wrong.” He’s not trying to be discreet; he doesn’t care if we hear him.

“There _is_ something wrong!” Tsunami bursts out, ignoring the glares from the minders. “We’ve never been outside these caves! They don’t tell us anything! All we know is that we’re supposed to stop this awful war, but no one has told us _how_ we’re supposed to stop it! We’ve never even seen the war! How can we do anything if we’re treated like new-hatched dragonets all the time?”

“Tsunami,” Dune says warningly, but I see a glint of fear in his eye. Are the minders afraid of Morrowseer? They’re the only other dragons we’ve ever known, and they’re always in charge, telling us what to do. It’s kind of hard to imagine that there are things they can’t control.

“No!” Tsunami says, “Morrowseer, you _have_ to help us!”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Morrowseer say, and then, without warning, he lunges at Tsunami. His mouth is open, reaching from her neck. Chaos descends instantly. Clay leaps forward onto the NightWing’s side, and Frost inhales deeply, preparing to use her frostbreath. Dune is yelling, Webs looks confused and unsure of what to do, and Kestrel is running towards us, trying to intervene. Morrowseer is still attacking, and even though Tsunami’s a good fighter, he’s more than twice her size.

I quickly scamper around behind him. There’s a soft spot, right near the end of the tail, that every dragon has, regardless of tribe. His tail is swinging back and forth, so I watch it for a moment, adjusting to the rhythm.

Diving forward, I latch onto his tail and sink my teeth between the scales, right into the joint. Suddenly I’m moving, as Morrowseer brings his tail forward. He looks down at me, and then, surprisingly, laughs.

“That’s unexpected,” he says.

Nodding towards Tsunami, who is panting heavily, he says “This one will do.”

He looks at Clay and Frost thoughtfully for a moment before adding “And those two. Luckily for you, IceWing, you didn’t use your frostbreath on me, otherwise there would be consequences.”

Frost just frowns at him and says sarcastically “Oh, _consequences_ , how scary.” I can tell she’s bluffing, though, by the way her eyes keep flicking from Morrowseer to Tsunami, waiting to see if he’ll attack again.

I let go of his tail, and walk over to stand with my friends.

Starflight hasn’t moved. Neither has Glory.

“This one has spirit,” he says, looking at me again, “But she’s all…” he gestures vaguely at me, “We’ll have to see.”

“We followed the prophecy,” Dune says, giving Morrowseer an angry look, “I found her egg alone, buried out in the desert. ‘ _And hidden alone from the rival queens, the SandWing egg awaits unseen_ ’,” he adds, quoting the prophecy.

_Buried out in the desert?_ I think. This is the first time any of the minders have mentioned where they found our eggs.

“As for you,” Morrowseer says to Starflight, ignoring Dune’s protests, “I assume your NightWing powers told you that I had no intention of damaging the SeaWing. Perhaps you even had a vision of my visit today. And no doubt you already know that I’m going to have a private conversation with you in the other cave.”

Starflight looked, if possible, even more terrified at the prospect of a ‘private conversation’ with Morrowseer. Starflight _is_ a NightWing, but as far as I know, he’s never been able to see the future or read our minds.

Morrowseer gestures for Starflight to follow him, and they’re almost out of the tunnel when Morrowseer pauses and says “We’ll talk about _that one_ –” he narrows his eyes at Glory, who ignores him, “– later.”

Then he’s gone, taking Starflight with him.

“Stupid SeaWing!” Kestrel rounds on Tsunami. She’s a talonwidth away from Tsunami’s face, and it looks like it’s taking all of her restrain not to hit her.

“Interrupting Morrowseer! He could have _killed_ you!”

“If you’re so angry with me, why don’t you let me leave?” Tsunami snaps.

“We can’t,” Webs says from behind Kestrel, “You’re not ready –”

“When _will_ we be ready?!” Tsunami bellows, tail lashing furiously.

“ _Never_!” Kestrel roars right back, “If you keep acting like a new-hatched dragonet!”

Tsunami looks like she’s about to attack the minders, but Clay steps between the two arguing dragons.

“Come on, Tsunami, let’s go,” he says, gently pushing her towards the exit.

Dune motions for Kestrel to join him and Dune on the other side of their sleeping cave, and she does, reluctantly.

“Three moons, I hate this,” Frost mutters, watching as Tsunami plunges into the river. A flurry of angry bubbles rise up from where Tsunami is crouched on the bottom of the river, obscuring our view of her.

No one says anything for a little while. Frost is staring down into the river, and Clay is watching the entrance of the sleeping room from which we can hear the echoes of Morrowseer’s voice. It’s too distorted to understand what’s he’s saying. I look over as Glory. She’s sitting next to the wall, tail curled neatly around her feet.

“What?” she asks me. I’m not sure what to say. Clay answers instead.

“Are you alright? They said some pretty hurtful things.”

Glory shrugs. “I’m used to it. It’s not like the minders talk about how awesome I am.”

I walk over to stand next to her and Clay, and from behind me I can hear Frost doing the same thing.

“Why didn’t you fight Morrowseer?” Frost asks. Her tone isn’t angry, just curious.

“I’ve already failed, just by being a RainWing,” Glory answers, not looking at any of us, “And he wasn’t going to kill Tsunami anyway, so what’s the point?”

“You haven’t failed us,” I say, nuzzling her neck. She flares her ear ruffs, turning them a pale orange. For half a moment, I catch a glimpse of her soulmarks, hidden on the underside of her ear ruffs.

“Yeah, we don’t care what the prophecy says or what Morrowseer thinks,” Clay says, and Frost adds “ _You’re_ our sixth dragonet. We don’t want anyone else.”

Glory sighs, moving away from me. “This is all very sweet, but it doesn’t change anything,” she glances towards the room where Morrowseer and Starflight are still talking, “I’m going to take a nap.”

“Now?” I ask, alarmed, “Is that really a good idea?”

Almost every day, after lunchtime, Glory takes a nap, but today, with Morrowseer inspecting us, it doesn’t seem like the best thing to do.

“I’m tired,” Glory replies gruffly, “And nothing I do can change what they think of me. Wake me up if anything important happens.”


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morrowseer takes action.

It seems like forever while we’re waiting for Starflight, but finally, he comes out of the cave, with Morrowseer following him like a dark cloud. Without saying anything to us, Morrowseer walks into the tunnel leading to the minder’s cave.

Starflight won’t make eye contact with any of us, he just turns and walks into the other sleeping cave. We run after him, coming in just as Glory wakes up.

“Well, what did he say?” she asks, stretching and letting her scales cycle through several colors.

Starflight, standing in the center of the cave, hunches into himself. “I’m not allowed to tell you,” he mumbles. We all stare at him for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. We don’t keep secrets from each other – at least, that’s what I used to think. Now, though, I’m not so confident. I’ve only just realized that they were planning escape, and no one told me.

“Come on,” Frost says cajolingly, “You can tell us anything. Soulmates, right?” She twists her head to the side, displaying the blue lettering trailing down her neck, right under her IceWing spikes.

Starflight looks up at her, then down at his talons. “He told me,” he whispers, then starts again. “Morrowseer told me how great NightWings are, and some other stuff, and –” He looks directly at Glory. We’ve formed a loose circle in the middle of the sleeping cave, and Glory is standing right next to him.

“Morrowseer said ‘I’ll take care of the RainWing for you’.”

There’s a shape intake of breath. I’m not sure who it’s from.

“What does that mean?” I ask, but my question is lost in the rush of talking. Starflight starts fidgeting, and mutters “I don’t know, he didn’t say anything else about Glory.”

“We need to find out what this means,” Frost says decisively.

“What about his mind-reading powers?” Clay points out.

Suddenly, there’s a loud clanking comes from outside, followed by a splash. I glance at the others, and by silent agreement, we hurry into the main cave.

Morrowseer is standing on the edge of the river, holding a length of chain. A moment later, Webs burst through the surface of the water, dragging Tsunami with him. Morrowseer grabs her the moment she’s above water, and starts wrapping her in the chains, even as she screams insults at him.

The five of us move as one, running across the cave and jumping over the river. Starflight gets frozen, though, stopping on the edge of the river. Glory hops back over, whispering something in his ear and giving him a friendly nudge. For her, that’s an enormous display of affection. That unfreezes him, and they both jump over the river, joining the rest of us.

Tsunami’s chains are looped through to a hook set in the rock wall. Morrowseer blasts the loose ends with fire, fusing them together. The metal bubbles and sparks for moment, then stops moving as it hardens. Tsunami is trapped, unable to move more than a few steps in any direction. She shrieks wordlessly at Morrowseer, straining to be free. Frost is next to her in an instant, glaring up at him, her chest rising as she breathes in. She’s going to use her frostbreath.

“What are you doing?” yells Clay, “Stop!”

Webs has slunk towards the minders’ cave, not making eye contact with any of us. Kestrel looks furious, and helpless, and furious at being helpless. Dune isn’t moving at all, but he glances over at us, and I can read his expression as easy as flying. _Don’t make this any worse than it already is._

I grab hold of Clay’s back leg, and he obediently stops moving. Frost hasn’t done anything since Clay yelled “Stop!”, thank the moons, and I try to silently communicate to her that attacking Morrowseer won’t do us any good. She understands, slowly letting her breath hiss out through clenched teeth.

“You’ll regret this!” Tsunami growls. She tries to lunge forward, but the chain yanks her back, and she stops struggling.

“I don’t think I will,” Morrowseer says, and if I didn’t know better, I would think he was gloating.

Tsunami smiles suddenly, which doesn’t bode well, and starts singing.

“Oh, the dragonets are coming! They’re coming to save the day! They’re coming to fight, for they know what’s right, the dragonets, hooray!”

Her voice is completely off-key, and cracks when she hits the high notes.

“Where did they learn that infernal songs?” asks Morrowseer, spinning around to see the minders. For once, Kestrel looks pleased to hear the song.

Glory smirks, and starts singing along with Tsunami. Following her lead, the rest of us join in.

“I’ll chain your snout as well if you don’t stop that noise!” Morrowseer bellows, trying to be heard over the song, but none of us stop, so he bends down and whispers something in Tsunami’s ear. She snaps her jaws shut, not looking at him.

We all stop singing, looking at her to see what’s wrong – besides the obvious chains – but she just shakes her head and glances at the giant NightWing, gills pumping angrily.

“Much better,” Morrowseer says, herding the minders into their private cave.

Me, Clay, Glory and Starflight join Frost next to Tsunami.

“We’ll get you out,” Clay tells her, tugging at the chains. The chains only pull tighter around Tsunami, and Clay quickly apologizes.

“Don’t worry about me,” Tsunami tells us, “Just focus on getting out of here.”

“We need to know what Morrowseer is telling the minders,” Frost points out.

Clay glances at the rivers, shivers, but then sets his shoulders and dives in.

We wait.

It’s probably not as long as it feels, but we’re all still, silent, waiting.

Finally, Clay bursts out of the river, gulping down deep breaths.

“He’s going to kill Glory.”


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmarks are discussed, and the escape begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to post a new chapter every two weeks. So much for that.

The reactions are instantaneous.

Glory’s scales blanch pure white, then settle to pale green.

Tsunami yells “WHAT?”, and leaps forward, only to be tugged back by her chains.

Starflight is frozen, wide-eyed, while Frost flares her wings, an ugly expression twisting her face.

I scramble over to Clay, ushering him towards the others.

“He’s going to kill Glory,” he repeats again, then explains, “The minders tried to convince them not do, but he went on about how she’ll be the downfall of the prophecy. They’re going to do it while we’re asleep. He told the minders that they have to restrain us, ‘because I can’t promise their safety if they interfere’.”

Instinctively, we’ve formed a circle around Glory, but she pushes us away.

“Listen, guys,” she says determinedly, “It’s great that you care, but right now you have bigger things to worry about. I can handle this.”

Tsunami makes a choking sounds, but I don’t think it’s because of the chain wrapped around her neck. Frost growls, deep in her throat.

“No,” Starflight mutters, shaking his head, “No, no, no.”

I’m not sure if he’s talking about Glory ‘handling’ it, or Morrowseer trying to kill her, or the whole situation.

“I can –” Glory cuts herself off as her scales shimmer, changing into the mottled grey of cave walls. She’s nearly invisible, but living with her for five years has taught us some things. I reach out, and mange to catch ahold of her wing.

“We’ll figure this,” I say quietly, “Together.”

Before she can protest, Clay winces, twisting his neck around to peer at his wing.

The names of Clay’s soulmates are imprinted along the edges of his wings. On his left wing, he has all of our names in deep blue, along with “Peril” in translucent purple (we’ve had several concerned discussions about the ominous naming of his soulmate). On the other wing, he has “Reed”, “Pheasant”, “Marsh”, “Crane”, “Sora”, and “Umber”, all in translucent blue.

He’s examining his left wing, so I ask “Is everything okay?”

“I’m … not sure,” he answers, and steps forward, holding out his wing for us to see. Normally, showing someone your soulmarks is a very intimate gesture, but we’ve known one another’s soulmarks for as long as we’ve known our own. I could probably recite Clay, Tsunami, Frost, Glory, and Starflight’s names by heart.

“Crane” has faded from translucent to transparent blue, almost invisible against Clay’s warm brown scales.

“It stings,” he explains, “And it’s faded. Do you know what that means?” The last part is directed at Starflight.

“It, uh , could mean a couple things,” Starflight answers, “If you’ve met your soulmate and didn’t like them, the soulmark will fade, or if something big happened, changing the possibility of you meeting and loving each other, or, I mean, if they died, the soulmark would fade.”

For a moment, there’s silence.

“Well, I don’t think Clay has met his soulmate, unless he’s found a way out of the cave without telling us,” Frost jokes. Starflight’s cheeks lighten to dark grey, the NightWing version of a blush.

“I was just – I mean, he asked what could cause – I didn’t think –,” he stammers, but Frost head-butts him gently, letting him know she wasn’t mocking him.

“Okay,” Clay says slowly, mulling over what this could mean, “Okay. But for now – Glory. And Tsunami. And – escape, I guess.”

“As I was saying,” Glory starts again, but we ignore her, because she’s just going to say some nonsense about ‘not needing help’ and ‘handling it herself’, and there is no way in all Pyrrhia we’re letting that happen.

“She just needs to stay safe until we get out of here,” Tsunami points out, “So if we could just get these chains off me…”

“Morrowseer fused the ends with fire, but none of us are full-grown,” says Starflight, “And the minders won’t be any help.”

Frost growls in frustration, muttering, “And _I_ can’t help, because I’m an _IceWing_.”

“Three of us have fire,” I say, gesturing to myself, Clay, and Starflight, “Maybe if we all used our fire at the same time?”

Starflight nods, thinking. “Maybe…and then once we get it as thin as we can, Frost can use her frostbreath?”

At a questioning look from Clay, he explains “It’ll become brittle, and should break easier.”

“Okay,” Glory says, because she’s fine with helping Tsunami, but not with us helping her, “I’ll count to three. Clay, Starflight, and Sunny will breath fire for as long as they can, and then Frost can immediately freeze the chains. Tsunami, once Frost gives you the go-ahead, try and smash the chains.”

I’m nervous, but I square my shoulders and breath in. We can do this. We _will_ do this.

Tsunami gestures to a section of the chains, and then moves away. Clay, Starflight, and I crowd in, waiting for Glory’s signal.

“Aaand…go,” she says, and three streams of fire erupt from three different mouths.

It always hurts a bit to use my fire. We’ve studied theories on how the fire-breathing tribes produce their flame, but a lot of what we read is outdated. I wonder if anyone has figured out how it works, or if they’re all too busy with the war.

The metal links of the chain have started glowing, turning warm red, then orange, then bright gold, then a glowing yellowy-white. It’s hard to see through the flames, but it looks like parts of the chain are falling off, dripping onto the floor in shining puddles.

“Frost!” Glory yells, and we jump back, only to be replaced by Frost. Her expression is carefully focused, and I barely have time to blink before she’s hissing out a blast of ice-cold frostbreath. Even standing a few steps behind her, panting to catch my breath, I can feel the wave of cold spreading outwards.

I hope she can do this. I hope I did it right. I hope we don’t all die – but that’s not the point. She has to do it on her own, since she’s the only IceWing, while I was working with Starflight and Clay.

It seems an eternity as Frost breaths out, and I’m a bit amazed at how long she’s able to keep going without pausing for breath. Finally, she coughs, and the coldness stops. It’s still there, but retreating.

Glory nods to Tsunami, and she lunges forward against the chains with all of her strength – which is a lot.

The chain, already thin from flame and brittle from cold, shatters with a sound unlike anything I’ve ever heard. I duck, just in case the shards fly in my direction, and when I look up, Tsunami’s standing unrestrained, broken links of chain littering the ground around her feet. A thin coating of frost still covers the pieces, lightening the color.

She lets out a sigh of relief, and then stiffens, remembering out predicament.

“Okay, step two,” Tsunami says, glancing at Glory and then the rest of us, “Escape.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make not promises about the validity of the science of melting and/or freezing chains. You probably shouldn't try that at home.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escaping is not as easy as the scrolls make it seem.

The problem is, we’ve never been outside our cave.

When we were younger and smaller, we might have been able to fit out of the sky hole in the study cave, but now I’m the only one small enough to fit my head out of it.

“The only ways out of the cave are the minders’ entrance, the river, and the sky hole,” Frost says, “We can’t get out the minders’ entrance, only Tsunami would be able to go out the river, if that even goes anywhere, and the sky hole is too small for any of us, except maybe Sunny.”

 “We’ll have to get creative,” she’s smiling, for some reason, “This should be _interesting_.”

Starflight looks mildly horrified.

“I could try the river,” Tsunami offers, “And if that doesn’t work…we’ll try something else.”

What no one is saying is that there might not _be_ a ‘something else’, but giving up before we even try won’t do any good.

“How will you find us, though?” Clay asks, “When you do get out?”

“The sky hole,” Starflight says, looking slightly more enthusiastic about the plan.

“Yes, Tsunami,” Glory says sarcastically, “Find _one hole_ in an entire mountain range.”

Starflights flushes grey, and explains “We could use fire signals or something.”

Glory stops mocking him and nods thoughtfully. “That might actually work.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Starflight mutters.

“Okay,” Tsunami says, “Bye.”

And then she’s gone, diving gracefully into the river.

“Tsu–” Clay starts, but snaps his jaw shuts, glancing towards the minders’ sleeping cave.

“Wonderful,” Glory gripes, hiding her nervousness with anger and sarcasm, “ _Just moons-blasted great_.”

“Okay then,” quickly recovering from her shock, Frost grins gleefully, “Let’s light some things on fire.”

“We’ve barely even started, and it’s already going wrong,” Starflight mumbles, but he follows Frost to the study cave. I glance at the river one more time before going with them. We’ll see her again. We have to.

The next while is an unsettling combination of tense waiting and hurried, silent preparation.

I’m not entirely sure what Tsunami is supposed to do once she’s in the outside world, or how she’ll get us out. Now that I have time to think, I’m noticing all the flaws in the plan. But it’s better than just waiting for Morrowseer to kill Glory.

The longer we wait, the closer it gets to nightfall and Glory’s planned murder. Her scales keeps flicking green and white before she smooths them back to the dull grey she’s been wearing since Tsunami left.

We’ve created a little bonfire under the sky hole using our old study scrolls, much to Starflight’s displeasure. It took a bit to get it right, enough smoke that Tsunami should see it but not so much that it fills the cave with a hazy cloud.

Finally, when the stars are flickering into life in the darkening sky and we’ve started quietly discussing how to move the rock blocking the minders’ exit, something dark blocks out our view through the sky hole.

“Hello?” calls a voice, instantly recognizable as Tsunami.

“Tsunami!” I cry as we all rush to gather underneath the hole.

“What’s it like?” Frost asks, at the same time as Starflight says “Thank the moons you found us!”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Glory warns, her voice a little shaky, and Clay asks “Did you make it out okay?”

Laughter filters down, and Tsunami answers “I made it out all right. There were these weird leech things at one point in the river, but apparently my blood doesn’t taste that good. It’s – it’s amazing out here. I can’t believe we’ve never been allowed outside. There’s trees, and the river, and goats, at least I think that’s what they are, and – well, you’ll be able to see it for yourself soon enough. So , what’s the plan?”

“We don’t really have one,” mumbled Starflight.

“I can’t hear you!” Of course she can’t hear him, I barely can.

“We’ve got about as much of a plan as you have patience!” Frost says, loud enough for Tsunami to hear, “Which is to say very little!”

Starflight lets out a low moan and covers his face with a wing.

“ _Well_ ,” Tsunami says, and I’m sure if she was in here with us she would be glaring talons at Frost, “I found a tunnel that leads to a boulder, so I think that’s the entrance.”

“Can you see how to open it?” Clay asks.

“No, that would just be too easy.”

Glory grimaces.

“We can figure this out,” I say, hoping I’m not lying, “Let’s go look at the boulder from the inside.”

“We’ll have to be careful,” Glory points out, “The minders are still in their cave with Morrowseer.”

Clay nods, and says “Maybe Starflight should go? His scales are pretty stealthy, and it’ll be better to only have one of us go.”

“No,” Glory shakes her head, “I’ll go. My scales are even _more_ stealthy than his.” She smirks.

There’s no arguing with that. Even without her color-changing scales, she can be very sneaky.

She comes back quickly.

“There’s a lever,” Glory explains, “But nothing happens when I pull it.”

“I think there might be one out here,” Tsunami chimes in, “I didn’t really pay it much attention.”

“They’re probably connected somehow,” Starflight says, “You two should, uh, try pulling on them at the same time.”

“How long will it take you to get back to the boulder?” Frost asks Tsunami.

“Not too long,” Tsunami says, “Give me a count of one hundred and then pull the inside lever.”

Frost agrees, and we watch as Tsunami disappears from the sky hole. A moment later, Glory leaves the study cave, muttering under her breath.

Clay, Frost, Starflight and I follow Glory down to the end of the tunnel, but don’t go father then that, watching as her scales shift into invisibility. The lever shimmers as Glory moves next to it, and suddenly it’s flipped from pointing at the ceiling to pointing at the floor.

There’s a grinding noise that sets my teeth on edge, and the boulder is moving.


End file.
